I Know What You Did Last Christmas

by Briggs, Laura

  Sitting down in his chair, she moved his computer mouse. The screen sprang to life, revealing a backdrop that matched the snow-covered mountain photo on her cubicle wall. She sucked in her breath, startled by the sight.

  Not that it proved Marc had told somebody else. But the thought dominated her brain as she opened his email account. It was already logged in, his email subject lines appearing on the page.

  He was way, way too trusting. Or too confident she would never find anything incriminating. She scrolled through the subject lines, looking for something about relationships. Or about the holidays. Or about anything that didn’t seem to be stupid animal pictures or office jokes.

  “What are you doing?” the sound of Ed’s voice startled her. She whirled around to see him peering over the opposite cubicle wall.

  “Um, I was just looking for some project notes that Marc forgot to give me,” she answered. “I guess maybe I deleted the email by accident or something.”

  Hastily, she hit the button and closed the email account. Trying to seem casual as she rose from his desk.

  In the hall outside, she bumped into Deb. “Did you talk to Janine about her ski trip yet?” her friend asked, as Lisel twisted her mouth into a casual smile.

  “Ski trip? No, not yet,” she answered. Then studied Deb with slight suspicion.

  “Why did Janine think of my skis?” she asked. “I mean, she didn’t even work here last year.”

  Deb raised her eyebrows. “Maybe because I suggested it when she mentioned she needed to borrow some?” She laid a hand on Lisel’s arm. “Relax, it’s not a conspiracy or something.” With a short laugh, she moved on.

  Lisel stared after her a moment. Could it be Deb? She rewound all the conversations they had about last Christmas, the remarks about her aloof behavior after the ski lodge. Maybe Deb had put the pieces together somehow.

  No. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. Leaning against the wall of her cubicle, she tried to think of all the possibilities. All the people who might have overheard something from one of their post-vacation arguments.

  The mail cart rolled by with Hal the offices assistant at its helm. “Here,” he said, handing her a stack of envelopes. “And take this, too.” He handed her a small special delivery package.

  “This is Marc’s,” she said, checking the address.

  “I’m sure you’ll be seeing him soon,” he answered. With a grin, he pushed the cart up the aisle.

  Her cheeks crimson, she tossed the package onto her desk. That was it. She definitely needed to talk to Marc right now.

  Leaning on his apartment buzzer, she waited for an answer. There was silence on the other side for a long time, followed by a shuffling noise. The door opened to reveal a sleepy Marc in a rumpled t-shirt and jeans.

  “Are you familiar with the concept of ‘taking days off’ from work?” he asked, glancing at her blazer and tailored slacks. “We landed a major client last night, Lis. Forget about work for twenty-four hours, will you?” He started to close the door again, but she blocked it.

  “Never mind that,” she answered. “You broke your promise, Marc. You told somebody about us.”

  He stopped putting pressure on the door. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “I’m talking about this.” She shoved the note into his hand. He uncrumpled the sheet of paper and read it slowly.

  “I found it in my desk drawer this afternoon,” she answered. “How did it get there if you didn’t tell somebody what happened?” Her voice rose with frustration.

  He looked up from the letter. “What are you panicking about?” he asked. He handed her the piece of paper. “It doesn’t say anything about us. All it says is it knows what you did last Christmas– so does everybody in the office who spoke to you last January, too.”

  “That’s not the part the writer’s talking about,” she snapped. “And what do they mean by a ‘big surprise’? Marc, this is blackmail. Somebody is going to expose our past relationship to the whole office.”

  She bit her lip, fighting back a sense of panic as she imagined what kind of evidence they might have. A photograph? A firsthand account from another guest? Maybe someone connected to the publisher had been staying there also.

  “Maybe it’s nothing bad,” said Marc. “What kind of surprise could it be? There’s nothing, Lisel. Just a little talk around the office. It’s not as if they have a videotape of us making out.”

  She shivered slightly. “Do you know what will happen if this gets out? Months of mockery for both of us–not to mention the editors thinking about splitting us up due to workplace tensions.” She didn’t mention that until twelve hours ago she was more than happy to trade partners with anyone.

  “Stop being paranoid.” He moved to close the door again. “It’s just a joke somebody’s playing.”

  “And if it’s not?” she said. “If the Secret Santa is just a big humiliation waiting for us at work on Christmas Eve?” She leaned on the door frame, meeting his eye with a defiant glare.

  He released a long breath. “Then we’ll have to find a way to move on, won’t we?” With that, he disappeared inside again.

  Smacking her hand against the door, she received no response from the other side as it closed. He was no help, as usual. She would have to figure out a way to deal with this herself.

  As usual, her mind added.

  *****

  Being snowbound for Christmas alone would have been terrible, Lisel had concluded. This was while she was curled up against Marc in front of the massive stone fireplace in the resort’s lobby. Leaning back against the leather cushions, Marc was sleeping soundly. One arm draped protectively around her shoulders.

  She punched him in the shoulder, gently. “Wake up,” she whispered. “It’s almost midnight.”

  He stirred and opened his eyes. “Is it Christmas yet?” he asked. Leaning forward, she kissed him on the cheek.

  “Almost.” He sat up and glanced at the clock, then at the girl beside him.

  “How long have you been here?” he asked. “I thought you went upstairs.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve been here since we finished the cocoa. Which was about three hours ago.” She nodded towards the empty cups on the nearby table, next to a plate of half-finished cookies.

  The roads were opened again yesterday and most of the guests had taken the lodge shuttle to the Christmas concert in the community. They could have gone along had dinner at a four-star restaurant afterwards. But that thought never crossed their minds in comparison to the thought of an empty lounge and fire for two.

  “You should have gotten some sleep,” he said. “It was a long day. Trudging through snow, trying out those skates on the frozen creek ...”

  “Pummeling my coworker with snowballs,” Lisel finished. “Sounds like a perfect Christmas Eve to me.” As he climbed to his feet, he took her hand and pulled her up with him.

  “Get your coat,” he said. “Let’s go see what Christmas Day looks like on the outside.”

  She pulled her coat from its spot on the floor near the sofa. Her heart was hammering as she pulled it on, her eyes doing their best to avoid darting in Marc’s direction as he hunted for his scarf and gloves. This last day had been almost like magic–no need to spoil it by thinking ahead of the moment.

  “All ready,” she announced. He pulled on his cap and gave her a warm grin.

  “Pretty,” he said, at the sight of her rumpled hair and damp coat. “I like it better than that dress you were wearing the other night.”

  She smacked his arm. “Be quiet,” she answered. He pulled her along behind him as he slipped open the lodge door to the grounds.

  The moonlight shone brilliantly on the snowy lawn. They waded towards the stone bench under a massive fir tree. He wound his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She nestled against his coat, feeling his heart beat beneath it.

  “I should have gotten you a Christmas present,” she whispered. “Something cheesy from the gift
shop. So we could celebrate this occasion properly.” She raised her face when he didn’t answer.

  “You didn’t get me something did you?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Not telling,” he answered. “Not yet anyway; it’s not even dawn. Who opens Christmas presents before daylight?” They sank down on the bench together.

  “People in Columbia do,” she argued. “But I don’t really want anything, you know. Just this.” She intertwined her fingers with his, squeezing them gently.

  “Lisel,” he said softly. “About these last few days. I know it seems sudden–”

  “Don’t say it,” she whispered, laying a finger on his lips. “Let’s not talk about it right now. We’ll figure it out later.” Sighing, she tucked her feet up on the bench, enjoying the warmth of his arm around her.

  “But there’s something I have to say,” he continued. She rolled her eyes.

  “Fine. Go ahead. Apologize.” She drew back and sat up, her arms crossed in expectation. He stared at her, brows slanted.

  “Apologize?” he snorted. “For what? For these last few days?”

  She laughed. “I meant for the times before that. All the stupid things and the undermining tactics.” Her own expression grew slightly confused. “What did you think I meant? We were talking about starting over, weren’t we?”

  His frown deepened. “No, that’s not what I’m talking about. Why would we start over again?” He stared at her. “You can’t erase the past. You just accept what happened and move on.”

  “Excuse me?” she asked. “Are you saying you’re not sorry for anything that happened before now? That you don’t want us to be better from now on?”

  “Stop changing my words around.” He groaned. “Look, all I’m saying is, we are who we are. I don’t want you to think of these last few days as some magical change. Something in a box that we can sprinkle over the future and gloss over the past.”

  “We’re talking about changing things, not ‘glossing over’ them,” she said. “Why are you trying to back out of changing? Unless–” she paused. “You’re not really serious about this, are you?”

  The color disappeared from his face for a moment. “No, that’s not it,” he answered. But she had already sprung to her feet.

  “Is this just a fling to you?” she asked. “Just a way to have fun for the holidays? No wonder you don’t want to apologize–you have no intention of doing anything differently when we get home!”

  “What about you?” he shot back. “When are you going to make some changes? It’s always this way, Lis. You wait for everybody else to bend to what you want, without giving them a chance to be honest. You automatically assume I’m wrong without ever considering my side of things.”

  Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I should have known it,” she sobbed. “I should have known you would do something this thoughtless. Just because you needed someone temporarily–”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He took a step towards her and gripped her shoulders. “Just listen to me on this. Don’t just assume things.”

  “I don’t have to,” she answered. “I already know.” She shoved him away and marched towards the lodge again.

  “Lisel, wait,” he called. She refused to turn around. Her gloved hand brushed away the tears rolling down her cheeks. Faster and faster they came, turning chill in the winds of early Christmas morning.

  How could she have believed there might be a future for them? That this would end with them being different people, exchanging secret glances and smiles at work. Instead of tossing coffee beans in a rage over altered business reports and stolen desk calendars.

  Marc would never admit he was wrong about anything he had done. And there was no way she was admitting her own mistakes without evidence that he was willing to participate. To him, the past was perfectly justifiable. Business was business– just as the last week was meant for fun.

  She locked her room door and buried her face in a bed pillow. She muffled her sobs, afraid someone would hear her. Not for anything would she have anyone know what had just happened.

  There was a soft knock on the door. She heard the sound of Marc’s voice and buried her face deeper. Hoping he would go away and leave her alone.

  After a few minutes, there was silence. He had given up.

  This was all childish and stupid, she reminded herself. This was the kind of emotional meltdown high school girls endured. So she couldn’t explain the pain gnawing at her heart as she lay there staring out the window at the snow-filled scene. Nothing had changed, really; except she would never look at Marc quite the same.

  Christmas morning dawned with a pale grey light. She heard the sound of guests gathering downstairs for the morning pancake breakfast and Christmas concert hosted by the lodge. Now that the ice had melted a little, the ski lifts would be open again. The community would no doubt be hosting a series of Christmas sales and the hotel would spring to life again.

  But not for her. She stuffed her garments into her bag, including the plum-colored gown. Carrying them downstairs, she rang the desk bell.

  “Miss Bishop,” the desk clerk greeted her. His face fell slightly at the sight of her bags.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked. “Your stay isn’t terminated until six o’ clock tonight, you know.”

  She nodded. “I know. But I’m leaving early.” She laid her key on the desk. “I’ve had a change of plans.” She worked hard to keep any trace of tears out of her voice.

  He took the key from the surface. “Should I inform anyone of your departure?” he asked. “If you need to leave a message or forwarding address–”

  “No,” she interrupted. “No address. I don’t need to leave any correspondence, thanks.” She scribbled something on the card he placed before her, then grabbed her bags. She skirted the dining room as quickly as possible, to avoid any chance of running into Marc before she could escape.

  She spent the rest of Christmas at home. When her phone rang, she ignored it. When an email arrived from Marc’s account, she deleted it unopened. Munching bowls of microwave popcorn and surfing through Christmas television specials, she did her best to push the thoughts and feelings from the last week into nonexistence.

  The next time the phone rang, she answered it. When she heard Marc’s voice on the other end, she interrupted.

  “Look, I don’t want to talk about it, understand?” she said. “I mean never. We’re just going to forget this happened. We were both being stupid and it has to stop. Understand?”

  It took everything in her to avoid sobbing. Her voice was cool and calm, the silence afterwards a period in which she barely breathed.

  “All right.” Marc’s voice rasped slightly in the receiver. “If that’s what you want. See you Monday.” She heard his phone click shut on the other end.

  She closed her own and sat staring at the screen. Unable to help it as a few tears escaped and made their way down her cheeks.

  It was going to be a very long Monday.

  *****

  Finding out who knew about her and Marc would be next to impossible. But finding the proof would be easier. That’s why Lisel found herself working well past her usual hour. She pretended to be engrossed in reviewing a stack of potential client files as, one by one, her coworkers departed for home.

  If worst came to worst, she would hide in the utility closet until every one of them was gone.

  She crouched behind the walls until the office lights were turned out. The sound of Downey’s voice drifted from the elevator as the door opened to admit the last worker leaving. As soon as the doors closed, Lisel sneaked from her hiding place.

  There, in front of the office window panes, was the Christmas tree. Beneath it, the anonymous Secret Santa packages.

  One of them undoubtedly contained the surprise mentioned in the note. She just wasn’t sure which one.

  Reaching into her blazer pocket, she produced her tools for the job. Scissors, a letter open, a package of scotch tape. She laid them ou
t like surgical instruments before reaching for the first package. Skipping her gift contribution–a Santa mug wrapped in silver paper–she chose a hideous blue sporting bright green fish in Santa hats.

  It had to be Ed’s work, she decided. It was definitely his sense of humor. Carefully, she pried open one end and slid out the box. Popping the lid, she anticipated a giant glossy photo of her and Marc embracing beneath the mistletoe in the Elk Run Resort ballroom. Although imagining such a photo made her skin tingle for far different reasons.

  Beneath the tissue paper was a troll doll dressed in a ballerina costume. Disappointed, she clapped the lid over the item and slid it back into the paper. One package down, twenty to go.

  It was time-consuming work; one by one, she lifted the tape using the letter opener. One by one, she opened the usual gag gifts of the office Secret Santa: novelty Jell-o molds, books on pick-up lines, tacky holiday ornaments.

  It was down to two packages. A large box in purple paper and a mini green sack stapled shut. She peeked through one edge of the sack and spotted a weird snarl of ribbons and feathers. A cat toy? A fishing lure? Either way, it wasn’t related to her secret.

  Reaching for the letter opener, she pried back the tape on the last package. A large package slid from beneath the paper, a candy cane striped box surrounding a reindeer with a red nose.

  As soon as the package was free, the nose lit up with a neon glow. A loud digital version of “Jingle Bell Rock” belted from the stuffed animal as it swayed in a dance. Panicking, she tried to stuff it back inside the paper, crumpling the folds around it.

  What if someone heard? She froze, her heart thumping in her chest. There was a scuffling sound in the hallway. Probably the building’s janitor. Crawling slowly away from the tree, she peered in the direction of the office doors.